gringo (gr?ng’g?)
n.
1) term used by persons of Latin American countries to denote a foreigner (especially those from the United States); therefore, my moniker in Ecuador
2) this fish:
See the resemblance?
To tell you the truth, my mouth actually was agape much of our last day in Ecuador. My pre-trip research had stirred in me a desire to photograph the fishermen at Tarqui, on the other side of Manta, and although I had mentioned it to Veró, I wasn’t keeping my hopes up. A beach full of men with machetes and a proficiency at gutting fish wasn’t the ideal place for a gringa, after all, especially one with a camera and a tendency to trip at inopportune moments.
But Veró’s tío graciously escorted us to Tarqui. It was another cloudy morning, and Veró was distraught at possibly having her last chance to sunbathe thwarted. But as we walked among the trucks, boats, bicycles, and stalls, the sun broke through, burnishing the sea against the matte gray sky. I relished the scene, photographing what I could without raising the fishermen’s hackles, and then both of us headed back to the other side of Manta for a final few hours in the tropics, before our journey back to Guayaquil, and home.
A sunken ship, wheeling birds, and fishermen at work.
This time, Jaws lost. (Above) Blue sharks. (Below) Hammerhead sharks.
Manta: Capital del atún, for good reason.
(Left) Man with sword, fish with sword. (Right) Another swordfish, de-foiled.
Waiting for customers.
I know I’m probably alone here, but excepting the whole dead part, I think fish remains are pretty interesting to look at.
The frigates were in full force.
Up close and personal with gringos (left) and un pulpo (right).
Big fish, big knife.
The beach was crowded with vehicles, including future fishing vessels (which are constructed entirely by hand!).
Frigates panned along with the fishermen who ran the catch from the boats to waiting truck beds or stalls, swooping down to snatch their cut of the profits.
Not only fish, but fruit, too!
Awnings and tarps defined the fishermen’s marketplace.
Clams, anyone?
We saw stumbled upon countless fascinating scenes, including this bedraggled rooster (left), and this smoker (right) passing by the “council” of fishermen agreeing upon prices for the day.
¡Langosta! I did have my first bite of lobster in Manta, after telling Veró’s tía that I’d never had it and then being unable to convince her not to cook it for Veró and me, neither of whom like seafood all that much. Just another miscommunication to chalk up as a humorous anecdote.
Tarqui Beach was everything I could have imagined: an unforgettable and entirely uncommon experience, right up to the very end. As we were leaving, I happened to look back and saw an egret just in time to watch her land. Absolutely stunning! Just more evidence that whenever I thought things couldn’t get better, they would.
Joy-
I love this series. They're my favorites from your trip (thus far).
This kind of experience is why I love to travel.
I couldn’t agree more, Adrienne!